


wild geese

by jennyhlucas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Distrust, First War with Voldemort, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), POV Sirius Black, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:07:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29096253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennyhlucas/pseuds/jennyhlucas
Summary: You do not have to be good.You do not have to walk on your kneesfor a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your bodylove what it loves.Sirius thinks he could forgive Remus anything. Even this.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Kudos: 13





	wild geese

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a sort of a short set of random glimpses into remus and sirius near the end of the first war living in a safehouse together, before the death of the potters. it can be a bit depressing and there's a bit of mild violence at the beginning, as a warning.
> 
> title and summary from wild geese by Mary oliver
> 
> enjoy!!

Sirius eases the bedroom door open. Remus is sitting at the window, bathed in warm sunlight. The tips of his hair glow auburn and his skin is lit up in gold. He turns to see Sirius at the door and smiles easily.

In a month, he will no longer be smiling easily.

In a month, Lily and James will be dead.

Sirius is not surprised when it happens. They were always going to die. He is surprised however, when he realises that Remus played no part.

* * *

Dumbledore had given clear orders not to kill. Clearly Mad Eye disagreed with the sentiment, Evan Rosier’s body at their feet is evidence enough of that. Rosier wasn’t one to come easy, that could be seen from the blood streaming out of Moody’s face. Somehow, Sirius suspects it’s a trait most Death Eaters share, but he hasn’t yet seen enough battle to confirm the theory.

“No choice.” Moody grunts. He doesn’t seem too put out at the loss of life, but Sirius can’t blame him, despite the sickness he feels rising up his throat at the sight of a dead man on his shoes.

Before he can lift his eyes from Rosier’s corpse, another ten Death Eaters apparate before them, advancing in the tight space. Again, they lose themselves in the flurry of battle, curses bouncing back and forth against the high walls of the alley. The Order is devastatingly outnumbered this time, but it seems to take an age for any signal for retreat to reach them.

This isn’t actually Sirius’ first taste of combat, but Dumbledore prefers to keep them away from the real fighting. Sometimes, he makes them do worse. Remus is undercover with the werewolves right now, with the man who changed him. It’s easier not to think of Remus and what he’s doing, the deathtrap that Dumbledore has sent him into, the image of his body torn up and mangled by those creatures.

Even still, that’s easier to think of than the alternative. There’s a mole amongst them. All fingers seem to point at Remus.

There are more important things to focus on right now.

Moody gives them the signal to disperse and Sirius apparates alone into an alleyway on the periphery of the action to pull himself together. It seems he isn’t the only one with the idea. There’s a dark figure across from him, ten paces away. He raises his wand, and the figure drops his hood.

“Sirius, another loss?”

It’s Snape. He’s looking smug, clothes smooth and unsullied, like he was nowhere near the battle.

“I’ll kill you where you stand,” Sirius snarls.

Severus smirks, idling forward, “There’s no need. The battle is over, we won. Unless, you wish to kill me here in cold blood?”

“What are you here for?” Sirius spits. “Small talk?”

“They say you’re in hiding with the wolf.”

“Nice guess, Snape.” Sirius smiles sharply. “Your friends have no idea where I’m living.”

“Really? You want to bet on it?”

“If you knew, I’d be dead by now.”

“Ah, but you’re right in front of me and you’re not dead yet.” Severus is close enough now for Sirus to feel his breath ghosting over his face. “Besides, why would we need to kill you if ‘thou liv'dst but as a breakfast to the wolf’?”

“Muggle literature, really? You came here to quote me Shakespeare.”  
That seems to amuse Severus more. “Oh Sirius, no, I came here to see how well Dumbledore’s slaves dance.”  
And with that he’s gone, indistinguishable from the darkness.  


* * *

They eat dinner together some nights. Other nights, Remus is in too much pain and Sirius can see that all he wants to do is sleep. Other nights, Remus can’t seem able to look Sirius in the eye long enough to last a meal.

Tonight, however, they eat together. It’s a nice night, caught perfectly between two full moons, so Remus’ bones sit comfortably in his skin and he looks at peace. It’s been long enough since his last stint at Greyback’s that his caginess has worn down to a reluctant tranquillity.

This evening is cheese sandwiches, as has been the last two nights and probably will be the next two. Remus butters the bread and passes it to Sirius for him to grate the cheddar onto. Sirius diligently cuts the crusts off the sandwiches, while Remus laughs at him for it.

“Oh, did you hear? The Magpies just signed on Cummingham as Chaser. Bizarre that they’re still thinking of Quidditch strategy at a time like this,” Remus starts rattling on, he talks more than ever when they’re at a dinner table with not much to eat. “But I bet, when all this is over, they’ll be straight back at the top of the league. It’s really not been the same since Watkins’ accident.”

Sirius just stares at the man across from him, trying to see a traitor. It isn’t an easy task, but sometimes he succeeds. Sometimes, the animal glint in Remus’s eyes is enough.

Now, Remus simply looks back at Sirius like he knows what he’s searching for. Like he could give it to him if he really wanted to, but is choosing otherwise.

* * *

Sirius steps out of the fireplace after Remus. It’s a relief to floo after all these months of apparation. It’s a shame Lily and James are moving again, it’s unlikely the next place will be connected to the Floo Network.

Back in the flat, Remus was all smiles. Here at the safehouse, the air has turned frosty. Remus fumbles with his bag, back turned to Sirius.

“They were my friends too, Sirius.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Lily and James. They were my friends too.”

Sirius laughs, “They’re not dead yet, Remus.”

“Yes, well, if they don’t manage to survive this war, that’ll have been the last time I saw them.”

Sirius has made a habit of underestimating Remus’ ability to see what isn’t said. It mustn’t have been hard to spot the boxes in the corridor, the guilty shift to James’ eye, the way Lily didn’t want to let him leave.

There’s not much that Sirius can say. He just leaves Remus in the living room, bag clutched tight in his fist, blinking back tears.

* * *

It’s a rare sight now, to see Remus smile. They’re sitting on the living room floor, cards in hand, the fireplace casting warm light over Remus’ face. He’s just won, so he’s grinning smugly. Sirius lets himself bask in the light of it, before he calls for a rematch.

A sip of firewhiskey. Maybe more than a sip. And Sirius is tipsy, tipsy enough to lean forward into Remus’ heat, chasing comfort. Remus leans away easily, letting Sirius’ hands slip from him onto the carpet between them.

“You’re drunk, Sirius. You should go to bed.” But he’s still smiling, not unkind, the way Remus can sometimes be.

People think Remus isn’t capable of being cruel, but Sirius knows better than most what he’s capable of. Everything.

“I don’t want to go to bed. I want to stay here with you.”

“You’re just lonely.”

“Yeah. I’m lonely.”

Remus sighs, like that has nothing to do with him.

* * *

It’s inevitable that Lily and James will need to go under the protection of the Fidelius Charm any time soon. Sirius has decided to start thinking ahead. He knows James will want to choose him. It’s a stupid idea, the Death Eaters will go after him as soon as they hear about the charm. While they distract themselves trying to get the information out of him, they’ll never suspect the others. Dumbledore will offer, but Lily and James will only want to trust one of their friends. Of course, Remus isn’t an option. That leaves Peter, completely unassuming, too hopeless to be considered as a Secret-Keeper, and too soft to ever betray his friends.

He’s already making himself sick over the Potter Situation, tugging on his hair across from Sirius in their booth at the Hog’s Head.

“Listen, Sirius.” Peter says, almost frantic. “The things being leaked, you and I know there’s only a few people it could be. It isn’t you and it isn’t me. You think it’s Dumbledore?” He’s laughing now, sounding a hair away from manic.

Sirius sighed, trying not to sound resigned, “Remus wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Ah, he’s a lamb, who hunts like a wolf.”

“So that’s why you’re so quick to point at him? I expected more from you, Peter”

“Don’t expect too much from me, Sirius. There’s only so much I can give.”

That evening, Sirus lingers behind at the pub, drinking and trying to pretend he wasn’t already two steps ahead of Peter.

* * *

Dumbledore’s fire-calls come few and far between, and always bear bad news. He’s telling Remus that he needs to go back underground. He’s saying that the other side know Lily and James’ location, that they'll be moving again. That the spy is still active, still leaking information. He says it matter-of-factly, no space for accusation, but it’s enough to fester in Sirius’ mind.

That night seems darker than most. Sirius can’t make himself meet Remus’ eyes, instead putting distance between them as he tidies away the kitchen and gets ready for sleep.

Something makes him hesitate at his bedroom door, listening for Remus’s movements in the house. Remus appears at the opening of the tiny corridor, silhouetted against the light of the living room. He approaches slowly, on light feet.

“Moony,” Sirius whispers, reaching out, but not quite touching.

Remus picks up Sirius’s hand from where it’s held suspended in the air between them. Sirius stares down at where their hands touch.

“Mr Black,” Remus whispers, thumb brushing over Sirius’ knuckles, “Mr Black.” His voice is gentle, but when Sirius looks up, his eyes are hard.

* * *

Sometimes Sirius hates Remus, like now.

He’s watching him limp around the kitchen, shuffling with the kettle in an attempt to make a cup of tea. He decides to take pity on him and pushes himself out of his chair.

“Sit down. I’ll do it.”

“I want to do it myself,” Remus replies with a scowl.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you might’ve tired yourself out on your little mission,” he snatches the kettle out of Remus’ grasp. “How are your werewolf friends?”

He can’t bring himself to take back his words, even when Remus’ face crumples just a little. It’s too easy to forget he’s talking to a traitor.

“If you have an issue with what I have to do, you should take it up with Dumbledore,” he takes back the kettle. “Do you think I enjoy it?”

He has a new bruise on the side of his face. Another scar around his neck.

“Maybe. They’re your kind, aren’t they?”

Remus’ eyes blaze red. It’s been so long since Sirius has been able to feel anger, but it’s crawling up his spine now. Too long pent up in this safehouse, perhaps. Seeing Remus bruised and bloody, more likely.

“I heard that Lily and James are moving again,” Remus smiles, sharp. “Will I be going over to help unpack?”

Sirius’s silence is an answer in itself. Remus puts the teabags in the mugs.

* * *

Sirius staggers in, bleeding from some places, hurting everywhere else. Remus is sitting calmly at the fire, in the place he’s made his own. Sirius stumbles over purposefully, looming over him in his chair.

“Fenwick’s dead. They cut him up, tore him to pieces.”

Remus looked up at him blankly.

“Well? What do you think?” Sirius presses.

“What do I think?”

“Yeah, what do you think?”

“Do you want me to sing a song about it?”

Remus turns back to the Daily Prophet. Sirius rips it out of his hands.

“Do you know what Benjy said to me the last time I saw him?” Remus is silent, expectant. “He told me there was a girl he wanted to marry after the war was done. They were going to make a family.”

Remus smiles with all his teeth, the look of a caged animal. Sirius’ heart drums a staccato behind his ribcage.

“Do you know what Fenwick told me the last time I saw him? He told me that he wasn’t like you, or James, or Dumbledore. He said he knew better. He said it’s ‘he who’s mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf’.”

“Was he right?”

“You were always mad, Sirius. Maybe now you’ve outgrown your insanity.” Remus rises sharply, and retreats to the bedroom, shutting the door with a slam.

* * *

Sirius is greeted this time by sound sifting through the tired front door. He slips through to see that Remus has one of his muggle records spinning on the turntable. It’s not one Sirius has heard before, but it has the well worn static sound of a record played too often.

Remus is swaying idly to the music, wandering around the living room. He’s lit in yellow by the firelight. His eyes are half shut. Sirius closes the door ever so gently, scared of startling Remus out of his reverie. He hardly ever gets to have him like this. He stands there for what feels like an age, just watching, listening.

“Come to me now  
And rest your head for just five minutes  
Everything is done”

Sirius takes a stuttering step forwards. Remus slowly turns to him, his face warm and open. Sirius braves the distance between them, rough hands reaching for Remus’ delicately scarred ones.

They’re doing something you could call dancing, weaving slowly between sofas and chairs. The record crackles. The fire crackles. It’s easy for a moment.

“Our house is a very, very, very fine house  
With two cats in the yard”

“We ought to get two cats,” Sirius whispers.

“This isn’t our house, Sirius.” Remus can’t seem to make himself frown, his voice soft.

“Shh, let me pretend.” Sirius closes his eyes, listens to the sound of Remus’ breathing, the final note of the song ringing out.

Remus lifts the needle as a voice starts to sing about four and twenty years ago. “Did you know that song was written about Joni Mitchell?”

“Who’s Joni Mitchell?”

Remus pulls out a new record, flips it, and carefully counts the grooves, before lowering the needle. He sits down in his fireplace chair and closes his eyes. Sirius mirrors him, listening to the music, trying to hear Remus in it. They sit like that until the fire dims and gives out, and the sun begins to rise again through their ragged lace curtains.

* * *

The man in the photos is unmistakably Remus. He has his slender frame, lightly curled hair, long fingers. Maybe someone else wouldn’t be able to recognise him, but Sirius and James know him well enough. Lily refuses to look. She refuses to do a lot these days. Her pretty face has drawn inward, she’s thinner and paler than Sirius ever remembers seeing her. Sometimes she doesn’t even talk, just closes the bedroom door and sits alone with Harry, silent. Sirius is sure she knows that Remus is the traitor. He can tell she believes it more than any of the others do. Even in a war, under threat of death, there aren’t many things with the power to make her look weak in front of her son.

As much as Sirius can see that Lily believes it, he can tell that James doesn’t. Even in the face of these photos, he just turns away and sighs.

“Moony, of all people. You’ve all gone insane.”

“We have photos of him consorting with Lucius Malfoy. He’s so deeply entrenched in Greyback’s pack. It’d be easy for him to give in to them, James.”

“It’s just easy for you to blame him,” James laughs without any humour, “it’d be just as easy for me to blame you, Sirius.”

Sirius pauses. “Is that what you think?”

“Of course not. I’m just— forget it.” He stands, slightly wobbly on his feet.

“Say what you want to say.”

James rubs a hand over his face and takes a shaky breath. “Padfoot, I’m scared. I’m scared for my son. But Remus is our friend, him being a werewolf never meant anything before.”

“Should I go?” Sirius’ voice makes it clear that’s not the only question he’s asking.

“I trust you,” James says firmly, “more than anyone. The Order is my family. I’ve put my life in these people’s hands. Clearly, somewhere, I’ve made a grave mistake, but I can’t work it out. Please, don’t come here to tell me Remus is a traitor. Don’t make me see the way it hurts you just to say it.”

Sirius stands up and swings his jacket onto his shoulder. “This might be the last time we see each other before the war ends, James. Please, don’t tell anyone that Peter is your Secret Keeper. And please don’t die.”

He tries to leave, but James grabs him by the elbow and pulls him into a crushing hug. It’s warm and perfect and reminds Sirius too much of everything they’ve lost.

“I won’t die. I promise you.” He fires him one of his big bright smiles and, for a second, it looks real.

It shouldn’t reassure Sirius as much as it does. It really shouldn’t.

* * *

Rustling awakes him, and he eases his bedroom door open to see Remus throwing things into a suitcase. His records, his mugs, a clock that Sirius can’t be sure if was his or Remus’.

“What are you doing?”

“Seeing Dumbledore.”

“You need to pack a bag to see Dumbledore?”

Remus looks up sharply. “What do you want from me, Sirius?”

Sirius doesn’t understand.

“You want me here? I’m a Death Eater and a traitor. I’m the sort of man who would send for his only friends to die.”

It’s not a confession, it’s an accusation, and it hits Sirius right in his chest.

“What can I do, Moony? I wish I could trust you.”

“Okay,” he nods, “so I leave.”

“Remus. Give us a few more days.” He doesn’t relent. “Please.”

“The war doesn’t have a few more days. If I were the traitor, you’d have just killed Lily and James.”

He shakes his head. “A few more hours then.”

“Sirius. If you think that’s what I am, why do you want me here?”

He can’t answer the question. Can’t tell him that it wouldn’t matter if he stood in front of him, tearing another human being to pieces. That it wouldn’t matter if he confessed everything, or cursed him where he stood. Sirius would still only be able to see Remus in front of him, standing in the safehouse they’ve slowly made their home.

“Okay, just a second then,” Sirius begs. “Let me look at you.”

Remus obliges, standing still as Sirius’ eyes drink him in for the last time. He makes sure to dedicate this to memory, every detail. And then he nods, and Remus picks up his suitcase and leaves through the front door.

* * *

In two days, Lily and James will be dead.

In twelve years, maybe Remus will smile at him again.

**Author's Note:**

> the song they listen to is our house by crosby, stills & nash, it's really very lovely and i listened to it while writing this. i imagine them listening to a case of you by joni mitchell after, that's only because i love the song.
> 
> i have a grand total of three gratuitous shakespeare quotes in here, sorry. he has a surprising number of quotes involving the idea of wolves, i really had to stop myself from adding more
> 
> hope you enjoyed  
> comments are so greatly appreciated!!!


End file.
